


The Trouble with Spike

by mammal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammal/pseuds/mammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trouble with Spike was that he sometimes made you think about stuff you thought you didn't want to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble with Spike

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to mascot for beta-reading!

Xander let himself into the basement on autopilot, nothing more on his mind than getting out of his stinking clothes and into a hot shower. God, after the first week on the job, pizza had been ruined for him forever. He was going to have to switch to something else for his comfort food. Maybe burritos? Mmmm, burritos.

 

Contemplating the beauty and majesty that was burritos, he moved toward the bathroom, shedding clothing and grease-stench as he went. As he toed off his shoes, kicking his pants off with them, Xander suddenly heard, “Oi! Don’t bother knocking then, will you?” He turned around so fast that his sock feet nearly went out from under him. Spike was sitting in his usual easy chair, but it was angled away from the main part of the basement – maybe that’s why his presence hadn’t registered, or maybe it was just because Xander was practically a zombie after a six hour shift.

 

From what he could see around the high back of the chair, Spike was holding a magazine in one hand, and Xander could see the other elbow… oh no – no, no no NO! “What the hell, Spike? WHAT are you doing in my basement?”

 

“This is where I stay, innit? S’not like I’ve got somewhere else to go.” Spike was going to play dumb, then? And… oh shit, his arm was STILL MOVING.

 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it! Are you – what are you – what’s that magazine, and WHAT are you doing?” Xander was desperately trying to think of any, ANY alternative activity that it could possibly be. He couldn’t bring himself to say outright what he knew to be true.

 

“Oh, you mean this? Skin mag – I’m havin’ a wank. Don’t mind me, whelp – carry on with your shower. You stink, you do.”

 

Xander spluttered briefly, but gave up trying to think of an appropriate response. For lack of a better plan, he hurried into the bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast before stripping off his socks and underwear. With his brain still churning uselessly, he automatically adjusted the temperature and stepped in. The water revived him somewhat – which was actually no relief, because that meant that he was aware of his thought process, such as it was. - _Spike is jerking off. He’s out there in my basement, jerking off. In my chair. Masturbating in my basement. Spike jerking off-_

With an effort, Xander wrenched his mind back to the immediate task of getting clean. He washed his hair more slowly than usual, then decided to follow the directions on the bottle and lather up a second time. No sense in hurrying, right? - _Since_ _Spike is-_ there’s just NO reason to hurry. He soaped up meticulously, cleaning under his fingernails and between his toes, concentrating on each part he washed, and not on _-Spike jerking-_ NOT on anything other than getting rid of the pizza smell.

 

Out of habit, Xander waited until last to wash his cock, which was usually half-hard halfway through any shower. This time – oh, huh. For some reason - _Spike’s arm moving-_ for some UNKNOWN reason, today he had a full-on stiffy. Sometimes he finished up his showers with just a pat and a promise, but it looked like this time he would need to handle it (“handle” it, oh, he cracked himself up) right now.

 

Okay, get some conditioner ‘cause it lasts longer than soap – plus, nice silky pubes, amiright? – and conjure up a vision of loveliness. His go-to fantasy was Anya (which shut up, it’s both manly AND sensitive to fantasize about your own girlfriend)… but thinking about her lately was a big downer since she’d declared a moratorium on sex until Spike moved out of the basement. - _Spike, who was in his basement, jerking off-_  MOVING RIGHT ALONG!

 

Willow and Tara doing “spells” together was usually a good back-up fantasy, but Willow’s rant the other day about the objection of the male gaze, or something, had kinda put a damper on the fun in that. Her follow-up rant, on how maybe SHE’D like to think about him and Riley, and how would THAT feel?, had gone deep into the realm of the weird, and also meant that whenever he tried to fantasize about Buffy, Riley wandered into the scene and got all… handsy.

 

Oh great – so much for his hard-on. That line of thinking would have killed… killed it… huh, guess not? Well, whatever, it’s not like he needed a fantasy when he had two good hands. Xander adjusted his grip and carried on, determinedly not thinking about - _Spike’s arm moving-_ ANYTHING AT ALL. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Zen masturbation master! Oh, he was close now.

 

Except, wait, slow down… didn’t vampires have a really, really good sense of smell? Hold up here. Yeah, Spike bitched about his super-special, sensitive nose powers enough that Xander knew he’d be able to smell it. He'd be sitting out there in that damn chair - _jerking off in my chair-_ sitting there sniffing, and he'd smell it right away when…  STOP, damn it, stop before – oh craaaaaaaaaap! Xander frantically splashed water and soap onto the shower wall, scrubbing at it with his hands.

 

Damn it, how come he couldn’t stop? He certainly had enough practice holding back to meet Anya’s demands. If he could hold off coming for sexy reasons, he should be able to shut it down for a DEFINITELY NON-SEXY reason! The thought of Spike sitting out there in that chair, knowing what he was doing in the shower – waiting to make snarky remarks - _smelling him-_ …that was humiliating. Right?

 

Xander sighed and turned off the water. He hadn’t even had the sense to turn on the weak-ass ceiling fan before showering. What the hell, do it now. Dry off, get… um, dressed… oh, SHIT. He had gotten so flustered by Spike - _jerking off in-_ BEING HERE unexpectedly that he hadn’t grabbed fresh clothes on his way into the bathroom! He looked down at his boxers, now not only used but also lying in a puddle, serving as a bathmat. Yeah, no. He wrapped his towel securely around his waist – unwrapped and rewrapped it MORE securely – and ventured out to make a clothes raid.

 

He was being so careful not to look over towards Spike’s chair that it took him a whole two seconds to realize that the chair was now turned back around to face the main part of the basement again. Once he glanced over, Xander had another split second of _-disappointment-_ RELIEF that Spike had finished, until he suddenly realized that Spike was, in fact, not finished!

 

The magazine, which appeared to have a buxom, blue demon on the cover, was discarded on the floor nearby. Spike slouched low in the chair, one leg slung over the arm, with his leather coat draped and crushed under him in a way that made his pale hair and skin even more noticeable. That, and the lazy movement of Spike’s arm, were probably the only reasons why Xander found his eyes drawn to his exposed hips. With his burgundy shirt pushed up part way, and his black jeans open and pulled down below his ass, the vampire’s belly and groin almost glowed under the fluorescent lights of the basement.

 

With a part of his brain that seemed separate from the rest, Xander idly noted that although Spike was definitely a bleached blond, he did have a fairly light natural hair color – though not much of it, apart from a neat square. That same part of his brain also commented, analytically, that Spike was uncircumcised, which probably increased sensitivity of the blah blah blah OH GOD SHUT UP.

 

The rest of Xander’s brain was bouncing frantically between panic, awareness of his own near-nudity, awareness of Spike’s awareness of Xander’s near-nudity, panic!, gratitude that Spike was sitting on his coat and not directly on the chair with his naked ass, _oh my god Spike’s naked ass_ , now panic and freak out!, _I wonder what a foreskin feels like_ , no no I mean if I had one of my own on my own penis, what did you think I meant, _why would you think that_ , OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

 

When Xander finally managed to wrench his eyes up to Spike’s face, he saw the most evil grin he had ever seen there (and that scale ran pretty high, just sayin’). With a rush of heat to his face, he suddenly wondered exactly how long ago Spike had turned his chair around to face the bathroom door. Oh yeah – vampires have excellent hearing, too, he thought a little wildly.

 

“Better shut your mouth, luv. You’re startin’ to give me ideas.” Spike’s voice sounded deeper than usual, and kind of - _sexy_ \- GROWLY.

 

Xander’s teeth clicked together audibly. “What, what are you – stop that! Right, right now! S-stop it!”

 

Spike made an exaggerated quizzical face. “Stop what? I’m not doin’ anything to you.” His moving hand slowed down even more – impossibly, painfully slow now – and his other hand glided from low on his stomach to an undisclosed location under his shirt.

 

“That! THAT!” Xander was dimly aware that he might possibly be a wee bit hysterical. “Stop doing THAT!” At the very moment that he pointed at Spike’s crotch, he knew that it was a bad move.

 

“Ohhhhhh… you mean THIS?” Spike helpfully adjusted his moving grip to make his cock as visible as possible. The tip – oh so slowly being veiled and revealed by the foreskin – was a rosy pink, and the long, slender shaft was about the color of Xander’s skin (when he wasn’t embarrassed, which at the moment, hello!) – but the contrast with Spike’s pale hand and the rest of his exposed skin was quite… striking. He drawled sarcastically, “You want me to stop mas-tur-bat-ing?” His hand slowed even more, and then stilled in a position that seemed to offer up his cock for Xander’s viewing pleasure. The tip was exposed and glistening.

 

“I thought wankin’ was allowed – I mean, you just did it a minute ago, didn’t you?” Spike gave his cock one more slow, firm stroke, squeezing out a bit more precum as he did. “I know for a fact you did. And just what were you thinkin’ about when you did it, whelp?”

 

“What was I – wait, what? You can’t ask – why, why would you ask me that?” Xander’s eyes got huge, and he felt his ears burning with the ferocity of his blush.

 

“I just thought we’d have a nice conversation, like. Aren’t you Americans all over that free exchange of ideas bollocks? You tell me yours, I tell you mine…” Another slow pull, this time with a twist that demonstrated the way the foreskin could slide wetly all around the head of Spike’s cock. “Here, I’ll start. I’M thinkin’ about you getting down on your knees for me. That’s what I’m wankin’ off to at the moment. Now, how about you? What were YOU thinkin’ about a couple minutes ago?”

 

Xander realized that his mouth was hanging open again. When had he moved his gaze back down from Spike’s face? Eyes front, soldier! Of course, seeing Spike smirk when Xander inadvertently licked his lips did not help him feel better. Plus, in his peripheral vision he could see Spike’s other hand moving under his shirt, even though the hand on his cock was motionless again. It was, wasn’t it? A quick glance confirmed that Spike was still just holding it out there - _as if waiting for Xander to come lick the moisture off-_ AAAAAHHHH WHAT?

 

Also, that quick glance down seemed to have gotten stuck in the down position, because he was definitely still watching as Spike, oh god, WAGGLED it at him! Oh fuck, busted for looking – quick, eyes up – ugh, now he’s LEERING. “See something you like, pet?”

 

“Yeah, right, Fangless! You – you’re not exactly my, my type, you know!” Xander decided that blustering his way through this was going to be his best bet – or really, his only bet, since he definitely didn’t feel up to a battle of wits at the moment.

 

“An’ here I thought you had a soft spot for demons,” Spike chuckled. The hand under his shirt was clearly working one of his nipples now, and the other nipple was peaking up - _enticingly-_ VISIBLY. He sucked in his cheeks in a mock pout, and looked up through lowered lashes. “Am I not demon enough for you? Shall I put on the fang-face, then, luv?”

 

Xander’s mouth wasn’t dry any more, but for some reason he was still having trouble talking. “I don’t – you’re not – NO. Not, definitely n-not ANY of that.” Had he remembered to put on antiperspirant after his shower? Why was he sweating? The basement did seem awfully hot today. Spike’s cock was throbbing pinkly in his peripheral vision.

 

“See, now, I think you’re not sure about that. I think you’re curious. I think you want a little taste… of the demon in me. Yeah?” Spike gave another slow stroke to his cock, which Xander belatedly realized was firmly in his central vision again, not peripheral at all.

 

“No! No curiosity, no demon, no – no _tasting_!” Xander was proud of himself for making a firm, coherent statement… but he did feel that he had undermined himself somewhat by drooling a tiny bit on that last word. Quick swipe, hope he didn’t notice _-just like Xander didn’t notice the new drool of precum at the tip of Spike’s cock just now-_

 

Spike laughed, actually LAUGHED this time. “Ah, you’re very convincing, pet – but you’re about to lose your towel!” He started working both of his hands more quickly while Xander looked down to grab frantically at the towel around his waist.

 

Xander’s relief that the towel was still quite securely in place around his waist was quickly replaced by mortification, as he realized for the first time _-yeah, right-_ that the front of the towel was hugely tented out by an unwelcome hard-on. He didn’t even bother going through possible acceptable causes in his mind – it had become clear to him in the last couple of minutes that he was in Trouble. Trouble of the evil, undead, mooching kind. The partially naked, snarky kind of Trouble. Right here in River City. And that starts with a T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for Penis of Spike.

 

That Penis (of Spike) which was looking bigger and pinker and juicier by the moment… Xander found himself not only NOT turning his back, as he had intended, but taking a step toward Spike (and his Penis). He figured if he were losing his mind, he had a pretty decent excuse, and if he were sane… no, yeah, he was pretty sure he was losing his mind. - _Spike! Penis!-_ Definitely sure he was losing his mind, but by all accounts, it was no great loss.

 

Spike leered again. “Know when you’re beat, eh?  Nothing more to argue? No more ‘I’m not – not – I’m not –’ So, maybe you ARE, then?” His hand continued to move steadily over his cock, and the other one finally came out from under his shirt and glided downward. He slouched impossibly lower on his leather-covered throne, then deftly maneuvered his balls out from his pants, stroking and rolling them in his hand.

 

Xander shuffled forward again, his fingers twitching sympathetically. He became very aware of his own balls, drawing up closer to his body, and of the fact that he badly needed either to adjust his cock or to commit to losing the towel. This would be a great time for a complete psychotic break! “So, maybe I am. Um.” That didn’t sound as suave as he had hoped it would. He cleared his throat. “So what if I am?” That was a tiny bit better.

 

“Lose the towel.” Spike jerked his chin at Xander, his voice suddenly dangerous-sounding. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Show me if you’re even worth the wank.” As Xander put his hands to the knot, he found himself fixated on Spike’s face instead of his cock, for a change. The intensity in the vamp’s eyes made him feel as though he might be washed with heat from the outside, in addition to the blush which he could now feel down to his stomach.

 

He found it easier to drop the towel than he had expected. Something in him had already decided what to do, and his conscious mind was just following along behind – or perhaps staying out of the way. Now bare to Spike’s searching eyes, he clenched his fists briefly, then started to reach for his own cock – which, when released, had gratefully sprung upwards to bounce off his belly.

 

“Stop!” Xander froze at the command. “No touching, pet. You don’t get to touch right now. You’re just for me to look at.” Spike smiled (kind of meanly, really) as Xander shifted into something like parade rest without arguing – without even thinking. He just gazed at Spike, who kept on pulling and stroking his own cock, then took his (oh god, _so wet with precum-)_ hand off of it for a moment, to twirl a finger in the air. Xander silently obeyed by slowly turning all the way around for the vampire’s viewing pleasure. His attempt to look nonchalant was somewhat sabotaged by the fact that he craned his neck to watch Spike’s avid face as much as he could while turning.

 

“Nice arse, whelp, verrrry nice. You really ARE a nummy treat, aren’t you?” Spike was now alternating between caressing and tugging on his balls. His other hand, back on his cock, was twisting rather brutally on every third upstroke. Xander found himself comparing it to his own technique, and picturing doing it that way himself. No, actually, he seemed to be picturing Spike doing it _to him._ He found himself at least two steps closer without having been aware of moving – he only realized it when Spike snapped out “stop!” again.

 

“Can I – I want to try – can I t-touch you?” Xander licked his lips quite deliberately this time, desperately wanting something he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive saying out loud. Spike looked at him blankly, so he tried again. “I’d like – let me, um – please?” His tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth, but there was no sign that Spike understood him, or cared to.

 

Xander decided that since he had completely lost his mind anyway, it didn’t matter if he stroked out from embarrassment. “ _Ireallywanttosuckyouoff_!” he gasped out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. When no aneurysm followed, he squinted one eye open to gauge the vamp’s reaction. For a split second, he thought that the smile on Spike’s face was a good sign.

 

Oh, wait… EVIL.

 

“AHAHAHAHA – good boy! I didn’t think you’d have the balls to spit it out, but you did it! Proved you’re a pervert and a poof right out loud! Bravo, really.” Spike worked both his hands harder still. “But you can’t seriously think I’d let an incompetent like you near my cock, even with those pitiful human teeth. I mean to say, I like pain as much as the next vamp, but there are some injuries you just don’t really enjoy having to heal from, y’know?”

 

Xander noted with the analytical part of his brain (which he really thought had given up the ghost a while back) that feeling miserable and humiliated was not doing anything at all to diminish his hard-on. He wanted the earth to swallow him up, yet he wanted it to happen slowly enough that he could jerk off on the way down. He felt a little detached, as if he were watching from a distance as a grinning vampire grunted with satisfaction and shot cum all over a dejected-looking, pathetically turned-on human.

 

He snapped back to full awareness as the cold clamminess registered. He was standing, while Spike was seated, but the vampire really had quite impressive range. Most of the spunk had landed on Xander’s torso, with stray blobs in his pubic hair and one on his lip. From the smirk on Spike’s face, that had to have been deliberate. Well, since he already wanted to kill himself, he might as well get the full experience – he licked at it tentatively. _Pah! cold and bitter._ It was sort of gratifying to see the heat that flared in Spike’s eyes when Xander put his tongue out, but the brief thrill was quashed by Spike’s open amusement at his grimace of distaste.

 

Still searching for the upside, Xander swiped his hand through the mess on his chest, testing the texture with his fingers. Before he could even twitch his hand toward his cock, Spike (bastard! mind-reader!) chided, “Aht-ah-ah! None of that while I’m here! Go getcher rocks off in the shower like you do thrice a day anyway.” At Xander’s wordless whine of frustration, he laughed again. “S’not my problem – last thing I want is some puppy rubbin’ himself off on my leg.” Spike stretched ostentatiously and yawned. “Any road, you’re pretty enough to look at when you don’t talk, I s’pose.”

 

As Xander stood there – rock hard, dumbfounded and covered in spunk – Spike rose to his feet with feline grace, zipped up his jeans, and donned his leather coat with a flourish. “Ta very much for the evening’s entertainment, pet. Don’t wait up for me tonight. Any night, really.”

 

Belatedly  finding his voice, however small and querulous, Xander managed to ask, “What... I, I mean... what WAS all that?”

 

As he swept out the door, Spike looked back and tapped his temple with a grin. “Now, now. I may be chipped – but I’m still evil!”

 


End file.
